I am frequently engulfed in grief and overwhelmed every single day. O-v-e-r-w-h-e-l-m-e-d. Every. Single. Day. It's not like anything I've ever felt before. In my stunned and racing mind, even the normal tasks and decisions are tedious. From day-to-day and moment-to-moment, in a year of firsts, it's difficult to keep the delicate balance between exhilarating and exhausting. I have a vast new appreciation for all those who have been grieving lost loved ones. How in the world do they do it and make it seem somewhat manageable?
I continue to deliberately put one foot in front of the other...walking by faith, carefully and prayerfully abiding in Christ. I am in the presence of my Savior, walking this rough road in His omnipotent company...the One who makes all things new. He is where my help comes from (Psalm 121). Every single overwhelming day, my eyes are fully seeking Him. There is no other way. It is the overwhelming that keeps me looking to Him, desperately needing more of Him.
And then, there is an undeniable sweetness in the walk. A privilege to be so saturated and captivated by Him in moments of great need. He comforts me. He fills me. He blesses me with what I need to get through another challenge. I'm slowly healing as I talk about Ted (thanks for listening) and lean on Jesus. I soak in the precious memories of my soulmate and I am delighted when someone brings up his name.
I have a sense that I am being retooled for a new purpose. We so loved our lives together. My purpose was to love God, to love Ted -- and to love God and others with Ted. Now I am clay in the hands of my Potter, being reshaped for a new beginning of His choosing.
When Ted's cancer was diagnosed 12 years ago, someone gave him this clay mug. Ted loved telling the story of how it reminded him that the Potter has the right to rework the clay at any time and make what He wants with it.
You, Lord, are my sustenance and my life-giving cup. In that cup, you hold my future and my eternal riches. (Psalm 16:5, The Voice)